


The Teasing of the Fire

by cmac242



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Disaster Tommy Shelby, Domestic Fluff, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentioned John Shelby, Mentions of Death, Protective Alfie Solomons, Sad Tommy Shelby, Slight Canon Divergence, Some angst?, Tenderness, Touch-Starved Tommy Shelby, We all just want them to be happy, mainly fluff, mid-Series 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmac242/pseuds/cmac242
Summary: "Evening, Alfie."Tommy was the first to speak after a solid 2 minutes of Alfie staring at him and him staring at the ground, head hung low, clenching his side. He looked battered, his cap was nowhere to be seen and he talked in a voice just above a whisper, sounding exhausted but at the same time just as clipped and tense as ever."Yeah it is, mate. It is." Alfie nodded, gun still pointing at Tommy's head.No, it was not.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 5
Kudos: 107





	The Teasing of the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first tommyalfie fic and english isn't my first language but ! i tried and i really hope you guys like it. hopefully there's more to come in the future !! i hope you enjoy these idiots being in love as much as i do <3 (also can't wait to see who notices what song the title is a reference to and the other song reference in the story)

"Evening, Alfie."

Tommy was the first to speak after a solid 2 minutes of Alfie staring at him and him staring at the ground, head hung low, clenching his side. He looked battered, his cap was nowhere to be seen and he talked in a voice just above a whisper, sounding exhausted but at the same time just as clipped and tense as ever.

"Yeah it is, mate. It is." Alfie nodded, gun still pointing at Tommy's head.

No, it was not. It was 1 in the fucking morning and not five goddamn minutes ago had he been soundly sleeping, right, like the sane human being that he is, before a presumed madman started banging on his front door and he had been forced to come down, gun pointing, to be greeted with this (now confirmed) madman called Tommy Shelby, who was currently standing on his doorway looking like a stray cat. Honestly, Tommy was lucky, Alfie thought. For a second he had considered shooting before even opening the door, but he decided that it was probably just his paranoia talking after making so many enemies in his _specific_ line of work.

On his doorstep, Tommy was dripping with sweat and blood. Even in the dark, Alfie could see a cut along his right cheekbone and a bruise quickly forming on the other. Of course though, because Alfie is a fucking respectful gentleman, right, he was not about to inquire on another man's business affairs, especially not a man in an area of business such as theirs.

"Are you done gaping now or do you not plan on inviting me in?" Tommy asked tired, finally looking up into Alfie's eyes. Ever the defiant, this Tommy lad. His expression and his tone were as stone cold as always but... his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that could make Alfie do the moon and back twice easy if they asked... they radiated sadness. They looked more broken than usual. If you knew Tommy enough, if you could learn to read the slight changes behind his eyes and look past the constant tension in his movements, you could tell that he actually seemed like he was about to... break down? That worried Alfie tremendously.

Tommy showing this amount of vulnerability, looking straight into his eyes when he knew he probably looked a mess, coming to his house in the middle of the night after clearly something unfortunate had happened... recurring to _Alfie_ , of all people... well, Alfie could be a selfish bastard on occasion but he was still a decent human being wasn't he? Therefore, he still worried over this blue-eyed Birmingham gangster, even though he would obviously never dare say it out loud. Alfie knew that Tommy knew that Alfie was thinking all this, he could tell by the way he was looking at him. Almost pleading that he wouldn't ask questions. At this point in their relationship, not asking about each other's business was an unspoken rule.

Did he seriously just use the term, _relationship_? No, _friendship_. With the occasional shag. Simple as that.

"Right. 'Course mate, yeah come in. I was simply assessing the fucking madman who decided to interrupt my precious sleep at these God forsaken hours of the night, eh." Alfie answered after a beat, lowering the gun and stepping aside, eyeing the dimly lit street up and down, because you could never know with Tommy, could you?

"Perfectly acceptable thing to do in my own home, innit?" he grumbled.

The broken blue eyes simply hummed as they stepped inside.

He was limping, Alfie noticed. As Tommy stepped into the warm light of his living room, he noticed more things. His trousers were ripped and you could see a deep gnash on the calf of his limp leg. His hair was all out of order, sticking to his forehead with sweat. There was a drop of blood sliding down his temple. Tommy took a sharp inhale as he sat down on the couch, still clutching his side.

"It is an evening indeed, eh? Not for nothing but you look like shit, mate." said Alfie, standing in front of Tommy and crossing his arms.

The other man busied himself with lighting a cigarette, saying, "Well, you know how it is Alfie. Shit happens."

"Does it, now? Yeah. I've heard." He has heard actually. Rumors about Thomas Shelby getting mixed up with Russians and then with Italians, always biting off more than he can chew.

"You know Tom, God always tells us," started Alfie as he instinctively went to collect bandages and some supplies from the bathroom, apparently now trusting the other man enough to leave him sitting on his couch alone. Alfie made note of this in his mind but decided it best not to dwell upon that detail too much. Granted, Tom couldn't have done much in the state he's in but still, you never know with that bastard. Or maybe he's being paranoid again. Hm.

"That we'll get what we deserve for our doings in this..." he grunted, leaning down, "measly life... once we pass on to the eternal life." He called from a place in his house that Tommy couldn't see, his voice echoing down the hall and drifting into the living room.

"From what I've heard," he said, steadying his voice as he walked back to where the other was waiting for him, "you're fucked, mate. Aren'tcha?"

"Says a lot about you, telling me this. I'm sure it's safe to say that we'll see each other once we both 'pass on' eh." sighed Tommy, looking Alfie up and down. He raised a questioning eyebrow as he noticed the bandages, water bowl, and cloth that Alfie was holding as he came in but said nothing.

Now that he realized, he's not exactly sure where the idea of tending to Tommy's wounds came from, but it seemed on a whole other level of "domestic" than what they were used to. Usually, when Tom came around at these hours of the night, the event that would unfold was much less tender than this. Tonight though, it's clear that the King of Birmingham isn't in any conditions for anything really. It's true however, that whatever... this... was had been going on for a relatively short period of time, just a few months, and Alfie hadn't yet allowed himself to linger too much on the concept of seeing it evolve into something... more. The mere idea of it was daunting and truthfully ridiculous in his mind. There was no way, alright, that whatever he and Tommy had could become something more even if he, say, hypothetically, did indeed want it to grow. Hypothetically. Not that he would ever say so of course. He wasn't fucking insane now, was he?

"As I said, you look like shit Tom. I will not be letting you get any gypsy blood on my couch, alright? Cost me enough as it is." offered Alfie as a response. "Well, it's not like I payed much for it, but its previous owner certainly did." he chuckled.

In his mind, Alfie wasn't amused. He was irritated at Tommy for his blatant lack of self-preservation but he wasn't in any position to lecture the man right now. He knew that if he ever _did_ want to be in a position where he could do that, Tommy needed to be the one to initiate that conversation or that accepting process. All he could do for the time being, was show him how much he cared for him in _and_ outside the bedroom, and he could begin to do it with simple gestures like this one. This was much easier said than done though, because as surprising as it may be, Alfie is known for being a romantic underneath the whole "evil gangster" facade. The slight problem here is that Tommy isn't exactly known for accepting softness or vulnerability in any way, is he.

 _Get a fucking grip Alfie. You sound and look like an infatuated teenager. When did we start giving a_ _shit_ _about this man and his recklessness, huh?_

Alfie shook his head and sat down besides Tommy on the couch, causing it to creak and sink down. Clearly he hadn't been eating much lately. The latter, still puzzled by the sudden implication of affection, finally spoke up.

"I don't need you to care for me like some bloody nurse, Alfie. I'm fine." he said, though his eyes and the wounds all over his body said otherwise. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his head roll back as he closed his eyes, exposing his neck. There was a dark violet bruise forming there in the shape of a line. A wire, if Alfie's experience told him anything. It made his insides twist with dismay every time he discovered a new cut, scratch, or bruise.

Alfie clicked his tongue. "Thomas, what damn part of ' _you look like shit'_ did you not understand? There's not much else we can do mate, with the state of you. Now this. Off." he said pointing at his shoes and trousers.

Tommy raised an eyebrow again. "I told you I'm fine. I'm not some fucking cripple."

Alfie rolled his eyes. "Did I, Alfie Solomons, the most feared man in London, right, a child of the Lord, ever imply, hm, that you, Thomas Shelby, were 'some fucking cripple'? Hm? Did I? No. Now sit still and take these off so I can clean this fucking mess."

A sigh is all he received in return, as Tommy started doing what he was told. Alfie had to make an effort not to make a face or some sort of remark and ruin the moment. He hadn't expected Tommy to give in so fast. This was a telling sign of how he was barely holding it together, otherwise he would've put up some sort of fight besides two refusals. He seemed a bit more put together now but if the planets aligned and Tommy actually started crying right now Alfie wasn't sure what he would do.

Alfie patted a spot on the couch next to him, signaling to Tommy to put his leg up. He was hesitant at first, looking at him almost like he was suspicious... which knowing Tommy, he probably was. Honestly Alfie was suspicious of himself at this point. Ultimately, the man gave in, wincing as he lifted his leg and made himself comfortable by leaning on the armrest of the couch, looking at Alfie from across the sofa while he got to work.

And so Alfie started, awkwardly and stiff at first, to clean around the deep cut on his calf. He was getting a bit anxious internally now because.... was this too out of place? What if he hurt Tommy? Was it normal for the two most feared men in London to be doing this? What was Tommy thinking right now? Still, he was trying to calm himself down by focusing on being as careful as he could so as to not hurt the other man. He heard a low hiss from the other side of the couch as he started trying to clean up the actual wound and felt a slight pang of guilt.

"'m sorry, love." he mumbled.

Maybe he shouldn't have used a pet name. Now he was overthinking it again. Well it's fine, right? It's not like it's the first time he calls Tommy that. He likes to call him pet names like "love," "darling," and "sweetheart" simply because he knows how much it irritates him (even though he can tell that secretly he loves it). He could feel the stare of those piercing blue eyes following his every move, and frankly it was distracting him greatly.

"Sumn on my face or what, hm?" he finally asked without looking up when he couldn't take it any longer.

"Why are you doing this?" Tommy asked in barely a whisper.

At that, Alfie felt a wave of pity even though he knew that Tommy would deck him should he dare show any of it. He finally looked up at the storms behind those eyes but, for the first time in a long while, he wasn't quite sure how to answer. He opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out.

Finally, he sighed and replied with a question of his own.

"Why did you choose to come here tonight, out of all places?"

That seemed to flip a switch.

"I'm just sick of it, Alfie. All of it. Italians. Gangs. Deaths. Family. I'm sick of being the one who has to fucking fix everything because apparently no one else in this SHITTY town knows how to FUCKING THINK." he yelled on that last part, making anybody else flinch and step back, but not Alfie. Alfie only looked at him and nodded. He knew that Tom was always the one having to fix everything for his family, he never did like that lot.

Tommy took a deep breathe, steadying himself.

"And," his voice wavered, "no one fucking listens to me and then of course everything goes wrong, like I fucking said it would, and suddenly everything is my goddamn fault?" He looked up.

In all this time he hadn't looked Alfie in the eye, but when he finally did Alfie realized that there were tears in his eyes, even though his face was as stoic and guarded as ever. His voice was low, as if it would break if he even dared to raise it.

He continued, "I can't stand it anymore. My whole family still fucking hates me after everything I've done for them." He was looking right through Alfie now, like he simply wasn't there. "And Changretta's threats. And John's death. I just feel like-" his voice broke. At that, screwed his eyes shut and kept quiet. He took a deep breath. 

Alfie was even more concerned at this point. Obviously he'd always known that Tommy carried with a lot of shit he never talked about, but there was something haunting about the man's cold, empty stare and the way the tears seemed to fall regardless of how hard he was trying to hold them in. It was as if he finally didn't care. As if a dam was finally breaking, causing a tsunami behind those blue eyes and flooding his mind and soul. It hurt Alfie to see him like this, broken at such a level that he was worried he wouldn't be able to put him back together.

Alfie had never been good with sentiment like this, even if he's always been good with words in any other context. So he decided to show his affection the only way he could currently think of. He slowly pushed Tommy's leg downward so he was sitting normally again. The other surprisingly let him. Then he inched closer to him on the couch, until their knees were touching.

"Look at me." his tone was soft, as if approaching an animal that might get spooked.

Silence.

"Tommy look at me." he said, more insistently now.

The other hesitantly opened his eyes and looked at him, stoic mask now broken. He looked absolutely wrecked and his eyes were red. The cut on his cheek didn't help either.

Alfie grabbed the cloth again and started cleaning his face very softly while putting his other hand on his cheek. Tommy closed his eyes again and tried to move his face away, but Alfie's free hand wouldn't let him. He spent the next minutes (Maybe more? Maybe less? He wasn't sure at this point.) cleaning the sweat, blood, and tears off of Tommy's face, all while the latter looked back into his eyes, sometimes as if searching for something and others as if admiring him.

"See? All done now, angel. It's okay." whispered Alfie once he was finished. He cupped Tommy's face with both his hands now and looked into his eyes, wishing, hoping that what he has done tonight helped in any way.

Their faces were mere centimeters apart now, a distance that could easily be broken if they really wanted it to. Alfie could feel Tommy's breath, calmer now than it was before. At that, he looked down towards his lips, thinking. He considered it but... he wasn't sure if Tommy was in the right state of mind at the moment, or maybe he would need the affection now more than ever. He was still thinking when he felt a soft, but chapped, pair of lips on his own. Just for a fleeting second. His mind had a hard time catching up with reality.

_Come on get it together Alfie._

It's not like they had never kissed before was it? It's just that this time, it felt different. This time, the feeling he'd get when Tommy kissed him was stronger, yearning for _more_. It wasn't like he hadn't had more in the past, but the more that his heart yearned for right now was a different kind. He craved the softness, the affection, the tending to his wounds, the taking care of him, the holding his hand, the drying his tears, the hugging him from behind, the talking about his day, the watching him sleep. It wasn't like he hadn't done some of these in the past, but now he wanted it every day. He craved all of it. This realization hit him like a cold shower. He wanted, no, needed, _more_.

All this, he thought in a matter of seconds. Before he knew it he was kissing Tommy again, soft but much less than that first kiss. It was sweet but filled with _something_ that he would soon figure out to be love. It was their way of expressing everything while saying nothing. It was their way of exchanging a thousand unsaid words and feelings and gratitude and admiration without saying a single word. It was their way of expressing their love, even if they were not aware of it at the moment. This kiss was their first. Not in the literal sense, but in the genuine sense. In the sense that they cared about.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading !! if you have any feedback please let me know ^^  
> \- caro


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